The Wind Beneath My Wings
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: By a twist of fate, young, sheltered Sweetie Belle meets the brash Scootaloo under the most bizarre of circumstances, and discover they share more in common besides a blank flank. Scootaloo/Sweetie Belle, one-shot back-story.


The Wind Beneath My Wings

Summary: By a twist of fate, young, sheltered Sweetie Belle meets the brash Scootaloo under the most bizarre of circumstances, and discover they share more in common besides a blank flank. Scootaloo/Sweetie Belle, non-slash.

English Friendship/Hurt/Comfort Rated: K+ Chapters:1 Words: Sweetie Belle & Scootaloo

"Sweetie!"

The violet-coiffed mare trotted primly into the harshly-illuminated scope, balancing two bulging, sapphire saddlebags on her posterior, grinning genially at the petite unicorn tucked in bed. "I got you a few things. How are you feeling, darling?" Rarity dispersed the silk sachets, unpacking their contents whilst awaiting a reply from her younger sibling. Sweetie Belle stirred, sap green eyes peering over the frayed edge of the herb-saturated swatch laid upon her feverish forehead.

"A little better, but my throat still hurts," she rasped, the strain of her ailment evident once the hoarse quality of her voice was perceived. Rarity stroked the filly's rumpled, gray-rose mane, feeling utter commiseration for the ill Sweetie Belle. Her abrupt infection had rendered her typically dulcet tone gruff, temporarily eradicating her singing abilities. "What did you bring me?"

"Oh! All your favorite things!" Rarity chimed stridently, levitating the articles by the use of her magic, encasing them in an amethyst glow, beaming exuberantly like a colt on Christmas Day. "Let's see, I've brought your little radio, your markers, some paper, ooh, and your little rabbit!" Sweetie Belle endeavored to remain upright, smiling feebly as she collected the lavender, plush rabbit into her appendages. She allotted her benevolent sister a grateful grin, shrouding her somnolence to interact with the gifts brought forth. "Now, if I could just do something about the lighting in here! It's positively dreadful! And the gown they make you wear! Oh!"

"Rarity," Sweetie Belle croaked, using her robust jaws to clench an emerald marker, mere word enough to mute the mare. After being awakened, she was feeling a might more active, the throbbing behind her eyes subsiding once she began to sketch. Rarity chuckled halfheartedly, perching on the oaken stool supplied by the hospital and observing the image birthed by the felt, ink tip. Sweetie Belle ceased her laboring, tilting her head to scrutinize the drawing at a distinctive angle. "It's not very good."

"Nonsense, it's a lovely, er, saddle," Rarity complimented hesitantly, unsure of what exactly the filly had been attempting to create. Palpable dejectedness mangling her wan visage vindicated Rarity's fear of guessing inaccurate, and the unicorn was hasty to revise her statement. "Oh, wait! Now that I look at it, I can see it looks more like a…"

"I was trying to draw the hat you designed yesterday," Sweetie Belle clarified, settling against her supple pillow and viewing her illustration with less enthusiasm. The idea aroused a question she had been previously curious about, forgotten until she had reincarnated the bonnet in her "artistic vision." "Rarity, if you're here, then who's running the boutique?"

"I took the day off, to state it simply," Rarity responded, discerning her sibling's expression of concern. "Sweetie, the boutique can go a day without me, even if it means…not sewing at all." She eluded the hysteria threatening to enter her voice, patting Sweetie Belle affectionately on the head. "Well, perhaps I'll gather some…inspiration. But that's not the point. I am here to care for you, darling. Your condition was simply dreadful last night!"

Sweetie Belle could not recall the past hours; they were a hazy, delirious concoction of frenetic urgencies and vermillion tablets. She was incredibly thankful that Rarity was abandoning her fashion duties to be with her, and found this deed to be extremely generous. Of course, Rarity was the most generous pony in Ponyville…

"Rarity, how about we do some dress designing?"

:::::

The frigid night was repelled by the comfortable robe Rarity had supplied, the velvety fabric soothing against Sweetie Belle's blistering flesh. The mare retired in a rigid armchair, elegantly curled upon the cushion with her chin draped over her right limb. Sweetie Belle nuzzled the stuffed rabbit to her cheek, thread whiskers tickling her orifices and causing her to giggle. She was recovering rapidly, as Nurse Redheart informed her, and should be released the proceeding afternoon.

Upon an hour's passing, Sweetie Belle discovered she could not slumber under the effects of her medication, instead tossing incessantly beneath the diaphanous sheets. She sighed lethargically, gazing up at the ceiling, eyes cracked with augmented, crimson veins. The foal resolved that a stroll around the hospital might aid her in effort to claim sleep, unsteadily dismounting her impromptu cot. Her hooves trembled, impending collapse nearly driving Sweetie Belle back into bed, but she was able to muster the vigor to saunter forward.

The dimly-illuminated corridors were a bit frightening, especially during the after hours when only the night physicians remained, downing pots of brewed coffee to maintain their sanity. Sweetie Belle yawned, glancing around at the various posters, shelves, and room numbers, all very bland and inconsequential. She was becoming drowsy, and was moments away from retreating to her designated region before her imbued ears perceived the muffled resonance of unremitting thumps emitted from another room. Sweetie Belle's natural inquisitiveness enticed her to peer past the cracked door, viewing its occupants.

An orange pegasus, possibly Sweetie Belle's exact age, was perpetually mounting her gurney, leaping off, and striking the linoleum tiles forcefully. The sickening smacking it created did not faze the foal, instead impelling her to resume the configuration once more, respirations rapid, pastel pink mane flaccid with perspiration. Despite being a bit slow, Sweetie Belle could recognize that the filly's failures did not derive from strength deficiency-her wings were obviously of no valuable use.

She whipped her head around, seething lividly with her visage contorted into an appearance of sheer fury. "What is it? Who are you? What are you doing here? Never mind, why am I wasting my time asking questions?" The pegasus expertly ascended her cot, violet eyes narrowed in unbridled determination, teeth gritted. She reared back, jabbed her unguis forward, and…

Landed with a hideous thud, an azure bruise visible on the side of her face.

The wound sparked Sweetie Belle's inquiry once more, intrepidly leaning into the space, shrouded in the silhouettes. "Um, why are you doing that? It looks kind of painful." The orange foal ground to a cessation, startling the unicorn with her petrifaction. "Are you okay? I mean-"

"Look, I don't know who you are, but get out! I don't want you here! What I'm doing is none of your beeswax, got it?" She inhaled sharply, glowering at Sweetie Belle as she returned her mundane activity, rising shakier with each attempt. This was extremely bizarre behavior, but Sweetie Belle thought she deserved a bit of kindness: Rarity had always educated her of this.

"My name is Sweetie Belle. I'm in the hospital 'cause I have a throat infection." By pure coincidence, she erupted into a severe coughing fit that lasted for several moments, causing Sweetie Belle's energy to drain further, having to settle on her haunches. The pegasus halted, comprehending the fact the unicorn was not trying to interfere too much with her extraneous exercise. She was enervated, and a brief period of rest would not harm her efforts too much.

"Oh. I'm Scootaloo. Got into an, uh, accident." Scootaloo was thankful the darkled environment veiled the bandages sealing her torso, feathers peeking from the medical implements. "Sorry for yelling at you earlier, I was kind of upset." Sweetie Belle galloped forward, staring up earnestly at Scootaloo with exhausted compassion gleaming in her eyes.

"That's okay. I like your name. Scootaloo. It's pretty. What happened to your chest?" Sweetie Belle gestured to the dressing taped over her tangerine coat, which Scootaloo impulsively tucked a hoof to, gnawing on her lower lip. The unicorn did not realize her anxiousness, primarily due to her fatigue, dully watching Scootaloo edge away.

"Accident. I kind of, er, crashed my scooter…and hurt my wings." Scootaloo demonstrated by straining to flap the visible muscles, the only evidence of her toil a meager twitch. "The doctor said I get to keep them, but it-it might be a while before I…you know, fly. He said I messed up the muscle that helps them work right. That's why I'm practicing. I gotta get it right, so I'll earn my cutie mark and be able to join the Wonderbolts when I get older."

Sweetie Belle elicited a feverish giggle, swaying slightly as she slurred, words scarcely comprehensible. "That's funny. I haven't gotten my cutie mark…yet." She promptly toppled over, snoring delicately in a manner that aroused lacking sympathy in Scootaloo. The petite pegasus grasped her companion's tresses, dragging her rather uncouthly onto the bed, glad she had fallen into such a profound slumber.

Scootaloo tugged the blankets over them, thinking that perhaps her wings deserved rest for tonight. Before her mind was claimed by sleep, she swore she heard Sweetie Belle softly serenading the night.

:::::

_Six Months Later_

"Oh, darn." Sweetie Belle pawed at the accumulated loam blemishing her flank, obscuring her cutie mark of a cerulean songbird, swaths of musical notes with hearts for heads. The eroded path had become overgrown with vegetation, even more so than when she had navigated the trail months ago, bouncing after her fellow Crusaders. The disbanded society had hung up their capes, cutie marks obtained: excluding a certain orange pegasus, whom Sweetie Belle was resolute to unearth.

The unicorn trotted towards the dilapidated tree house, beginning to deteriorate without Apple Bloom's carpentry skills; in fact, the pony had earned her personal insignia in joinery and artwork. Sweetie Belle dissuaded Apple Bloom to accompany her, explaining that it was best for only one to console their friend. The foal understood absolutely, aware that Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had been friends for much longer, and dismissed her with a benign nod.

Sweetie Belle stumbled on the ladder, wrapping her appendages shakily upon the rungs, the planks creaking beneath her. Gasping in alarm, she hauled herself ineptly into the scope, too spooked by the scaling to identify her companion. The pegasus did not budge, coiled around herself with a tattered, threadbare vermillion square thrown haphazardly upon her body. Sweetie Belle paused, gazing mercifully at Scootaloo, evading eye contact with the filly's blank flank.

"Hi Scootaloo," she greeted, maintaining a positive attitude she anticipated would lift poor pegasus's spirits. "Me and Apple Bloom were worried about you. I wanted to talk to you earlier about it, but you left." Scootaloo finally craned her neck, mauve eyes gleaming with hushed despondence, atypically susceptible. "So, um, if you wanna talk…I know it's disappointing, but I'm always here for you."

"Did Rainbow make it?"

Sweetie Belle suffered a customary sensation, resembling the impression of plummeting from the royal castle's pinnacle: her heart skipped a beat, silence roared at her ears, an incredible bout of vertigo sent her back on her haunches. Rarity had yet to explain it to her, but she did remark it was a consequence of her previous throat infection. "Oh-oh Scoots…well, um, I wasn't exactly, and-"

"She made it, didn't she?" Scootaloo growled vehemently, shedding her pitiful exterior and clambering to her hooves, incensed beyond feasibility. Seething uncontrollably, she slammed her unguis against the weathered partitions, the fir slabs groaning under the impulsive impact, dust settling over them. Sweetie Belle's ribcage grew unnaturally taut, coughing as the grime penetrated her lungs, inhaling sharply to purge the organs of the foreign object. "Celestia darn it, she made it!"

"Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle croaked, reaching out and dotingly caressing her companion's battered cheek, horseshoe brushing the crevice. "Please! Don't be mad at Rainbow! She told me after the auditions that she wished you were next to her the entire time." Unconvinced, Scootaloo tilted her head away, but Sweetie Belle was swifter, pivoting her stare back towards her. "She was crying, Scoots. She really misses you. And, she got the Wonderbolts to sign this for you."

The unicorn shrugged her heliotrope saddlebags off her hind, reaching in and reemerging with a glossy photograph, which Scootaloo thieved dementedly. It was a glinting depiction of the Wonderbolts, expect for instead of their proverbial pose amongst the clouds, they were all in Ponyville, wings immobile. Signed with a smudged flourish, was the message: "Keep dreaming kid, and remember that sometimes it's better not to have your head in the clouds."

"Th-the Wonderbolts?" Scootaloo stammered, unable to comprehend the personal memorandum Spitfire had addressed to her. For a moment, her disability did not appear to be such a horrible occurrence: in fact, Scootaloo nearly embraced the reality of her situation. If Spitfire encouraged her to pursue her aspirations on earth, then Scootaloo would do so in a tail shake. "Rainbow Dash got the Wonderbolts to sign this for me?"

"Since you couldn't audition," Sweetie Belle spoke, smiling contentedly at how thrilled Scootaloo was to have a special souvenir from Equestria's finest fliers. The pegasus had been denying the verity for so long now, insisting incessantly she would train her wings to carry her through the pristine skies along with her idols. Alas, the feathers could do little more then flutter when she was riding her scooter, and, in her dejected state, had simply stayed in the tree house while her childhood dreams vanished in the dazzling sun.

Scootaloo was so exuberant that her otherwise stagnant wings began to twitch, an explicit indication she was prepared for a scooter ride. "Hey Sweetie Belle, wanna go for a ride? I think if I can't keep my head in the clouds, I should keep it on the ground. Going at fifty miles an hour." Sweetie Belle giggled, trailing after her tangerine friend as she mounted her famed vehicle. The unicorn hesitantly looped her limbs around Scootaloo's waist, distressed by the knowledge that the scooter had never upheld two riders at once.

"Here we go!"

Indeed they did, speeding over the emerald hills of Sweet Apple Acres, bulleting towards town square at a breakneck pace, producing the flighty feeling. Sweetie Belle blinked furiously, yet the dizziness did not subside, nor the breathlessness, and she coughed forcibly into her hoof again. Afeared of falling, she clung to Scootaloo tauter, tresses billowing in the frigid gales wailing about them.

Sweetie Belle was not certain she could hang on much longer, as the falling sensation increased further than ever before. Wheezing, she found her hooves slipping away, and was sent flailing off the scooter's edge, spraying soil geysers before she finally ground to a cessation, chillingly still. Scootaloo braked her vehicle, abandoning it without a second thought, galloping over to the injured foal. "Sweetie! Sweetie, quit joking around!"

The aluminum helmet loosened its straps, exposing Sweetie Belle's horn, which had a developing, cerise ring around it. Without her horn, could she ever learn to create magic? Would she lose the only unique skill of a unicorn due to her carelessness?

"I've sent for a paramedic pony," a sonorous-toned stallion informed Scootaloo, "he should be here shortly." The young pegasus disregarded his assuring, cradling Sweetie Belle close to her chest, tears unashamedly coursing down the cheek her fellow crusader had stroked mere moments ago. Scootaloo strived to deafen herself to the voices chiding her within her mind, but they reverberated of the caverns of her skull.

…_can't come out to play girls, short of breath…_

…_should I get the nurse…_

…_you simply can't have races like those anymore…_

"Oh Celestia, I should have listened. Sweetie Belle, you're gonna be okay." Scootaloo nuzzled her neck amorously, listening for a pulse, a breath, a single precursor of life, but after silence had claimed the congregated throng, Scootaloo relaxed her rigid muscles, aware Sweetie Belle was alive. And not for her heart or her lungs, but for the mellifluous, inaudible voice serenading the day.


End file.
